


Love Password

by lessiehanamoray



Series: Valentine's Day / White Day 2019 [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, Romance, Spoilers, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 19:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17773133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lessiehanamoray/pseuds/lessiehanamoray
Summary: Goro Akechi realizes something needs to happen in his and Akira's relationship.  There's a lot of blank space between them and he needs to fill it.  While not graphic, this story focuses largely on the sexual side of a relationship and sexual abuse is a theme.





	Love Password

**Author's Note:**

> This is a post-game story. If you have not finished the game, I don't suggest reading it. Events mentioned are similar to my story Mistletoe, but different enough I decided not to count it as part of the series.

###  **Early Morning**

Akira lets out a deep breath, somewhere between contented sigh and exasperation. In response, I even out my own breath to sound like I’m still sleeping. He knows I’m not, but I try not to look like I care too much about what he’s doing.

I know what that breath means.

It’s his signal. A sign of his frustration. He doesn’t say anything about it. Not anymore. Just quietly lays in bed, finishing off where his dream stopped.

He uses his left hand to jerk off. Makes sure I can feel the arm move beside me.

It’s fine, I guess. For a while I even kind of liked it. Masturbating together was nice. And listening to his soft moans does turn me on.

I want to kiss him. To plunge my tongue into his mouth. Feel how he moves when I glide it across the roof. Release him gasping for breath. Whisper in his ear exactly how I’ll make him orgasm.

He hitches his breath beside me, his movement growing faster.

I never follow through with any of it.

“Goro.”

I roll over, catching his gaze. He’s tilted his head to look at me, and smiles at my turn. I slide closer. Rest my head on his shoulder. The same shoulder spasming with his strokes. He leans in. Takes a deep breath.

I feel the groan force its way past his throat, reverberations reaching where my head rests. The strokes lose their cadence. He releases a long moan, bucking a little.

I bolt up to toss our comforter out of the splash zone.

Besides, it’s not a bad view, taking him all in. A perfect moment framed in ruffled bedding.

He looks up at me and smiles.

I can’t help but smile back. There’s something contagious about someone truly happy with themselves.

His eyes drift toward my crotch in an attempt to decipher if his own pleasure had the desired effect.

I shove my pillow in his face, not appreciating the examination.

“Mmmf...Hhhng…”

I let go of the pillow to grab a tissue from the box I keep on the floor.

“What was that for?”

Fuck it. I throw the whole box at him.

“Are you mad?”

No, but yes.

I slide out of bed, making sure he never sees my front.

“Should I not do it in bed anymore?”

Yes, yes he should. I clench my face rather than my fists so he can’t see my frustration too clearly.

“Goro? Am I doing something wrong?”

It’s not him. It’s not him at all. I just need to say something. Even if it’s not elegant, he needs to know. It’s not him. It’s me. It’s all me. I just...I just can’t. Not right now.

Instead, I’ll say something pointless.

“I’m showering first.”

I hear him moving. Fight or flight kicks in and I not only rush for the bathroom, but slam the door behind me.

Damn. You’d have to be an utter moron not to think someone was mad at you after that. Not the impression I was targeting.

Akira taps the door. “You alright?”

No, but you’re perfect. Frustratingly perfect. Infuriatingly perfect. And I don’t want to lose you, but I’m flawed, and damaged, and broken. I don’t go with perfect.

There’s a louder thump on the door. “Goro.”

I owe him an explanation for my behavior. He’s already doing so much for me. Giving me such a big chance. All he really asks in return is my honesty. And he doesn’t demand answers. Doesn’t press me about my actions under Shido. Doesn’t ask about the time before we met. Just, lets me explain in my own time.

And I just run from him, again and again. I keep doing it. Keep...getting scared.

People can’t betray you if you don’t trust them in the first place. And when they say you’re worthless? Doesn’t matter, as long as you agree with them.

All the better to have never cared when they inevitably leave me.

My breath is getting ragged. I have to tell him something. He’s waiting so patiently.

Okay, even if I can’t explain, I should at least start with,”Sorry.” Deep breath. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why?”

Why indeed? I open my mouth to speak, but the truth is I’m scared. I’ve only ever been wanted the same way someone wants an interesting tool or a cool toy.

I have no value as a person.

So, how come he cares I’m upset?

“Alright.” I hear the resignation - the disappointment - in his voice. “Tell me when you can.”

I nod, even though he can’t see it. Even though I’m so grateful he’s not just yelling at me to answer him.

“Tell me if I’m doing something wrong, okay?”

I work hard to hold my voice together. He doesn’t need to hear how upset I am. Doesn’t need to think it’s his fault. “I will.”

There’s a pause before he responds, “I’ll make sure I’m packed by the time you’re done.”

Right. He has a morning class today. Guess I better not take too long.

 

 

###  **Afternoon**

My favorite part of the day at Cafe Dumas is when everybody leaves.  Quiet descends on the greenhouse-like cafe, and I can finally stop pretending to like people.

After cleaning off the small tables, I move behind the counter to help tidy things up with the Boss.  We need to get ready for the after class rush.

Boss moves close to me while I’m washing the dishes.  “Feeling good today?”

I give the mechanical response, even though I know he doesn’t believe me.

“You were a little cold to the customers this morning.”

How so?  I did everything the same as always.  Signature smile, standard hello, and just friendly enough to not appear stiff. 

Boss sighs.  “You seemed distracted,” he explains.

Distracted?  “How?”

He gently takes the cup out of my hand.  “You’ve been washing this cup for over a minute.”

I just hold my hands under the hot water.  They don’t really feel any different. Until he turns off the faucet at least.

“Plus, you spilled a drink.  Two months working here, and you’ve never spilled anything.”

I dry my hands.  No point letting them get cold.  “Off day.”

Week.   Month. Year.  Plural.

“Usually, there’s a reason.”

And?  I turn to the food prep area.  This down time serves as our lunch break, and I usually take the chance to try out one of the shop’s sandwiches for myself.

“Goro, don’t avoid me,” Boss chides, tone patronizing. 

“Just making lunch.”

I basically respect the Boss.  He’s good at his job, and treats Akira, Morgana, and even me well.  It should be hard to get mad at someone who does as much for us as he does.  The cat’s now the cafe mascot. And I started working here before I had any government identification.  Not to mention letting me crash at his place with no explanation from Akira.

But being mad at people is a specialty of mine.  Humanity can jump off a cliff and impale itself on the jagged stones beneath for all I care.

“Goro, talk to me.” 

Calm.  Stay calm.  He’s just trying to be helpful.  That’s normal. People frequently ask why others are bothered.  Totally normal.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I hear a click.

It’s the switch that turns off all my filters, and Akira’s the only person on the planet for whom that’s ever been a good thing.  The only person who wants to hear what I have to say unfiltered.

I spin, throwing his hand off my shoulder.  “Stop pestering me. I don’t need you sticking your nose in my business.”

I’m vaguely aware of the old woman who hangs out by the window looking up from her book.  Yeah, that was louder than I like. And I’m definitely going to regret this.

Boss holds out a hand, in a seeming attempt to pat down my temper.  A disgusting smile crosses his face. “Goro-”

“Shove that damned smile down your throat.”  How dare he try to use that ‘everything’s okay’ smile on me?   “What do you think I am? Two? I don’ need ya butting in ma life, an’ I sure as hell don’ need ya actin’ like I’m a li’l kid!”

Shit.  Dropping into yakuza speak. 

“Fuckin’ bastards.”  How dare those bastards of human refuse twist my words.

“Goro, I’m worried about you.”  

Must be the first time he’s seen me snap to try something so pathetic.  Nobody ever worries about me, “An’ I don’ want yer half-assed attempts ta help either.  I’m not yer pity project.”

I don’t need pity.  I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it.

The Boss looks me in the eyes.  “No, you’re not.” His voice is sterner than usual.  “You’re my employee, and you’re not doing very well today.”

Damn.  Pissed him off.  Well, whatever. I doubt I really do him much good anyway.  If he wants to get rid of me, so be it. It’s what I expect.   

“You’re also Akira’s boyfriend, and I have been charged with taking care of him.”

What?  I mean, I know Akira said something about Mr. Sakura putting him in contact with the Boss, but...

“You’re important to him.”  Boss smiles at me. “And you’re both important to me.”

How do I respond to that?  I get the employee thing. I can even comprehend that he feels responsible for Akira, but… me?  I’m just a stain that never goes away.

I can’t possibly look straight at him now.

“ _Tt._  What makes you think it’s our relationship that’s the problem?”

“I didn’t say that.”

No, I guess he didn’t.

“But, I do know a thing or two about relationships.”  He stands beside me and begins work on his own sandwich.  “Maybe I can help.”

Not sure what I think about that.  Either way, should take a moment to prep lunch while I calm down.

Morgana must see that the tension has passed, because he comes up for his lunch too. 

“One bowl of chicken salad please.”

Give the not-cat credit.  He’s learned to ask from the floor. 

I place one scoop of chicken salad in a small bowl we use especially for him and set it to the side of the counter. 

“Just one?”  Morgana glares up at me. 

“You’ll get fat if you eat more.”

“You eat more.”

“I’m not a cat.”

“I...AM...NOT...A...CAT!!”

Why is he so predictable?  The Boss chuckles beside me. 

“I swear he’s louder when you talk to him.”

I piss him off more.  Not like I mind. Honestly, out of the three individuals I spend time with, Morgana’s annoyance at my very presence makes the most sense. 

Boss’s tolerance makes sense too, I guess.  If you ignore the real lack of questions about my use of a pseudonym.  At least he hasn’t let my real name slip to Morgana yet.

Oh, and the fact that he first met me on the verge of death, Akira pleading him not to take me to a hospital.  I guess, Mr. Sakura must have warned him to just go with these things ahead of time.

“It’s Akira who doesn’t make sense.”  I let my thoughts out quietly, giving them voice, but also trying to pretend there’s no one in the room to listen. 

Give the Boss credit.  He just takes his plate to the counter so he can eat.  I move around it, so I can face him. If I can get up the courage to look up. 

Well, at least the tuna sandwich is good. 

“I mean, I get that he likes me.  We’ve been together long enough. It actually feels real.”  But I feel like he’s giving me more credit than I’m due. Like he’s letting me prove myself.

“And I don’t feel like I’m living up to his expectations.  Maybe that’s not a bad thing.” I mean, reasonable expectations involve murder.  I sigh. “I’m doing something wrong.”

“Hmm.” 

I let out a puff of air and shake my head in frustration.  I’ve got a good idea what I’m doing wrong. Or at least, what’s causing problems.  I try not to let on how thoroughly I stalked him during the Phantom Thief incident, but I do know his dating habits. 

It doesn’t involve boys.  And it does involve sex.

I am a boy and sex scares the shit out of me.  And I don’t mean the usual hang-ups on performance or size either.

I know I can make him feel good, and “That’s the problem.” 

Okay, it’s a problem. 

“I know relationships aren’t simple, but I don’t have much reference.”  I’ve read some boy’s love, I guess, but...none of it ever did anything for me.  I just read it because my fangirls liked it. I tilt my face to the ceiling.

“I just know that when I’m with him…” the hurt stops.  And when he touches me, “I feel a jolt, like Frankenstein’s monster coming to life.”

“Heh.”

“Well, you are a monster,” Morgana quips. 

Should’ve shot the cat instead of the human.  I turn to glare at him, but he’s already run off to the windowsill by our only patron. 

Can’t he go live with Oracle or something?  I’m sure Noir has room.

“Well, pretty sure you’re not a bunch of stitched together corpses.” Boss assures me.

Maybe not, but by all rights, I am the walking dead.   If Goro Akechi hadn’t already been a false identity, things would have gotten very complicated. 

“And if he electrifies you, maybe you ought to let him.”

I want to, but every time Akira starts, I end up pushing him away.  One time he tried to wake me up with a kiss. I headbutted him.

Hard. 

It gives me a headache just thinking about it.  No real surprise he has a thick skull.

“It’s not so simple.”

The Boss leans in close, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. 

Here it comes.

“Are you a virgin then?” he whispers. 

I could really use a gaggle of female idiots wandering in right about now.  It’s probably the fastest way to end this sort of conversation.

My frustration must show more than my desire to let him think my problems stem from virginity though, because he’s starting to give me a weird look. 

It would be so much easier to let him think virgin nervousness was all it was, but he really is the only person I have to talk to.

Dammit all.  Why do I need to talk to someone about this anyway?  It’s awkward. It’s irritating. And it is definitely not something I want to discuss with the guy who writes my paychecks.

“Goro?”

I snap at him.  “What?”

“You can forget that last question.”

“Eh?”

“It’s none of my business.”  Boss begins brewing some fresh coffee.  “Might be Akira’s though.”

I take our plates over to the sink. 

“I want to tell him,” I admit.  “I just don’t know. How?”

“Hmmm.”  Boss carefully measures out the beans.  “How about you just tell him everything?”

Everything, huh?  Even if I could condense it down, that’s one hell of a conversation. 

“It doesn’t need to be all at once, you know.  Just enough that he knows there’s no off-limits.”

No topic off-limits, huh?

“It’s hard to have a conversation without a starting point; but give that boy a bunch of starts and I’ll bet he finds the finish to line for each and every one.”

Give him a bunch of starts, huh?  It’s an interesting idea. The question is, how do I approach that?  There’s no way I could just tell him everything. Not only would it last forever, but I’m not sure I could. 

There’s a lot to say.  A lot I don’t want to say. 

Still, I do feel a little better.  Boss is right. I just need to give Akira something to start with, a string to pull. 

Now that I’m starting to plan my attack, my mood keeps improving.  There are heavy topics ahead of me, and it’s going to suck, but my steps still feel lighter. 

I’m still more focused on how to handle Akira than the customers, but at least I don’t feel like I’m going to drop anything.

“Do you think you’ll get lots of chocolates?”

I blink in surprise at the young woman in front of me.  She’s a regular. Another student at the university Akira attends.

Why would I get chocolate?  Or, want it for that matter?

Whatever.  I just want out of this personal exchange.

I smile at her.  “I don’t expect any.”

“Oh.  I would have thought you were quite popular.” 

She seems genuinely surprised.  She probably assumes Akira and I hit up the town together or something.  And weekend trips to the big city aren’t uncommon, but Akira needs a lot of time to study and I’m still in lay low mode. 

Having been declared dead - twice - it seems like a good plan.

She lets me go for now, but I’ll have to come back with her drink eventually.

Why is my love life any of her business?  There’s something about Valentine’s Day approaching that suddenly makes whether or not you’re dating somehow important and public. 

If the West had kept this particular holiday to themselves, I’d have had much more pleasant Februaries. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Can’t she just drop it?  She’s got her mocha. She can stop pestering me.

I smile sweetly at her.  The kind of smile people apparently like, but that always gives me the urge to slug someone. 

“Now, now, don’t you think that’s a rather personal question?”

Seriously.  Would you want me to have a girlfriend?  The Boss is pretty clear the female clientele swelled when Akira started working here, and jumped again when I started. 

“I see.  No plans then.”

“Not as of yet,” but maybe there should be.  

 

 

###  **Two Days Later - Afternoon**

I can’t believe I bought this paper.  A whole set of it too. I mean, I decided it was okay because of the red, but the red is for hearts made out of 愛 -the kanji for love.  The odds I puke before I finish writing are very high.

Even saying the word ‘love’ always causes a certain amount of bile.  It’s a word of emotional manipulation. Even when saying it to Akira, I’m doing so precisely because I want him to stay with me.

But staring at a piece of paper which uses it as a part of, for lack of a better word, art?  That brings the word to a whole new level of disgusting.

Morgana looks equally disgusted, though probably for different reasons.

“Please tell me you’re writing to a girl.”

I shove him off the desk. 

“Hey!”

“Deal with it.” 

I pick up my newly purchased pen.  It’s decent, but they didn’t have any left-handed fountain pens, so I had to go with something ball pointed.  If I’m going to bother writing this damned thing Akira had better be able to read it.

“You’re grumpy today.”

“And you’re pushy.”

I went ahead and asked for today off from Boss, since it’s the only day between now and Valentine’s Day that Akira spends mostly on campus.  Boss let it slide, but said I’ll need to come in before opening on Valentine’s Day proper. Fine by me.

Akira’s Thursdays are pretty busy anyway. 

Now to just ignore how tacky this paper is and write.  It’s not that hard.

Yeah right.

Where do I even start?  I guess by wishing a happy Valentine’s Day?

Ugh.  That’s how most of my stupid fan girls opened their annoying letters.  I hate it.

That piece of paper goes in the trash.  Maybe I’ll make discarded letter soup tonight.  That’s food, right?

I tap my fingers on the desk.  How to start?

“I’m going to hang at the university,” Morgana announces.

I wave him away without looking.  He decided early on to handle my relationship with Akira via ignoring it as much as possible.  Besides, watching someone write a letter has got be one of the duller activities around.

I guess I should start by telling Akira I love him.  It’s tacky and stupid, but also true. I then follow it up by letting him know that I’m not mad at him, and that just by spending time with him, it’s going to be one of the best Valentine’s Days I’ve ever had.  I can’t remember the last time I spent it with someone I really liked, or even tolerated, for that matter.

Okay, so I’ve felt affection for maybe four people.  Counting him, of course.

Did I really just write that down?

The thing is, I’ve never been prone to crushes.  By the time I was old enough to really develop them, well…

Just, write it down.  Write it down. I can do it.

Kagema.  I worked as a kagema, a male prostitute.  There’s so much that happened before that.  My mom committed suicide, and left no doubt that I was the reason.  Her sister wanted nothing to do with me. I was in an institution. I ran away to go to a funeral for another kid who had left.

Rather than go back, I fled to Tokyo.  I couldn’t go back, and I knew it was where my dad was from. Where my mom had worked before having me. 

But, what he needs to know, what matters right now, is that the yakuza caught me. 

I can’t do this.  I’ve never discussed this with anyone, and right now I feel like I’m just dribbling on a page.  Monkeys at keyboards, is it? None of this makes any sense, but I feel like if I try to plan it out, the page will stay blank. 

I guess I can always rewrite it if I need to.  And on less tacky paper.

I just want Akira to know that it’s my own hangups.  I’ve had, no, given, sex a lot. And, I know I’m good at it.  I know how to please other men, and I know it would feel good for him. 

I also know it’s not all there is to a relationship, but it’s something he wants.  And I want to give it to him, but I’m scared.

I’m scared of the memories.  And I’m scared of being owned again. 

I’m scared that if I give him my all, there will be none left for me. 

I know he loves me.  It took some convincing, but I know it’s real. 

I also know that that word, and that concept, have been used to control me.  No matter how sincere his love for me is, or how much I reciprocate, there’s always going to be that association. 

Damn.  My eyes are watering.  Definitely couldn’t say this out loud.  I cover my mouth with my hand and just sit with my thoughts for a moment. 

Almost immediately, I see him in my mind.  That cocky grin on his face that tells me he really believes he can save me.  And that sparkle in his eyes that tells me he’s excited for the challenge. The comfortable posture that indicates trust.  The outstretched hand, offering to take me along for the ride, wherever we end up.

Completely open.  Completely welcoming. 

I want to be like that too.  Not for everyone, of course. I still think the human race overall is a burning pile of shit.  Akira though, he deserves my trust.

He’s earned it. 

He could have left me for dead.  He could have turned me in. He could have forced answers out of me. 

And instead, he’s just glad I’m alive. 

I’ve barely ever cared about that, but my life makes him smile.  And his smiles make me smile.

I want to trust him.  I want to remove all the barriers between us.  I want to act like he does. To openly love him the way he loves me. 

I’m writing again, and feeling better about it.  I definitely couldn’t have sat down and said all this to him, but I hope reading how I feel helps him understand why I’m the way I am. 

I just hope he’ll still love me when he’s done.

 

 

###  **Valentine’s Day - _Very_ Early Morning**

 

Five in the morning on February 14th, and I’m standing bleary-eyed in front of Cafe Dumas.  The wind whips snow against my face and cuts the cold straight through my clothing.

Five in the morning on February 14th, and I should be snuggling up to my boyfriend.  The shirt he wears to bed on cold nights is softer than Morgana’s fur. And as long as he doesn’t hold me too tightly, I like to lay on him and listen to his heart beat. 

To make sure he’s really alive. 

I let out a deep breath and watch it drift away.  Just thinking about cuddling up to Akira in a warm bed improves my mood. 

Boss opens the door to let me in. 

“You look like you’re still dreaming.”

“Must be a butterfly then,” I mumble, remembering an old proverb. 

He blinks at me in confusion.  I walk inside, wanting that damned door closed as quickly as possible. 

Despite the gloves, my hands hurt, and I can feel frost on my scarf. 

“I’ll get to brewing us some coffee.  You go ahead and put your stuff in back.”

How the hell can he so chipper in this cold?  Who chooses live in the mountains?

“Still not used to the cold, huh?”

I will never get used to the cold. 

I shrug, and put on my apron. 

“Well, some nice coffee and a warm oven ought to do the trick.”

I yawn.  It surprised me when he said he’d need extra help today, and extra early at that.  It surprised me more when he told me not to tell Akira he had personally asked. Some excuse about school.

Akira should have to suffer with me. 

The Boss pours me a cup of coffee.  I can tell just from color and smell that it’s strong. 

He looks startled when I turn away his offer for cream. 

“This blend tends towards the bitter side,” he warns.

“That’s fine.”  Today’s the kind of day I want my coffee bitter. 

Boss shrugs and sticks the cream back in the fridge.  It’s emptier than normal, like he’s cleaned it out for something.

“Alright, we’ve got our coffee in hand, so you ready to get started?”

“Started on what?”

He winks.  “Valentine’s Day.”

“Huh?”

“Every year, I make some of my own red velvet cakes for the holiday, and I thought this year I could use a helper.”

I got out of bed at 4:30 and stood in the cold for cake?

Irritation must show on my face, because he laughs.  “You know, Akira tells me I make pretty good pastries.  Can’t do it consistently enough to supply the store all the time, but I like to do the occasional special.”

Good for you.

“Anyway, I figured since he was looking forward to it so much, I’d teach you how to make it too.”  He eyes me now, clearly waiting for something.

Like what?  So he wants to teach me how to bake.  Isn’t that kind of a...wait. Akira says they’re good.  Akira’s been looking forward to trying some. Boss wants me to make it.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

Oh. 

The Boss winks at me.  “Thought I’d let you take one home as a little bonus.” 

Me?  Bake Akira a cake? 

I’ve never baked.  What if he doesn’t like it?  What if I give him food poisoning?  I just know Morgana will say it was on purpose.   

“I’ve never baked before.”

“Not unusual,” Boss reassures me.  “Don’t worry though. I’m a pretty good teacher.”

Yeah.  I know that. 

“So what do you say, Goro?  I know it’s not handmade chocolates, but it should do.”

Red velvet cake, huh?  I had been wondering if I should get him something to go with my letter, but buying something didn’t feel appropriate.

I didn’t want to deal with people asking me about my girlfriend.  I long ago assumed I would never have a girlfriend. Then again, now that I think about it, I never really considered the possibility of a boyfriend either. 

But, damn I stared at his pictures a lot. 

“Well, you on board?”

“I’m already here, aren’t I?”

Boss laughs at my grumpy response. 

It’s annoying, but also a little soothing.  He’s seen the real me. Not the murderous one, but the more normal, grumpy, pessimistic one.  And he still likes me.

Flaws and all.  

 

 

###  **Valentine’s Day - Evening**

 

Akira and I close the cafe together, just like normal.  We walk side by side in the cold, a newer normal, and I feel like my hands are going to freeze around the cake box Boss gave me.   


“We should get food,” Akira mutters.  He turns his face towards me. 

Of all his traits, this is probably the one which most ticks me off.  He purposefully leaves things vague to force an opinion out of me. He knows perfectly well that I’ll eat just about anything short of styrofoam.  That I like sweets, but can’t eat too many without something bitter or savory in between. And that I really, truly, don’t give a damn where we get our food.    


However, tonight, it would be nice not to just grab food from the convenience store.  I mean, it is Valentine’s Day, and I did wake up stupid early to bake this boy a cake.  Might as well try to salvage the day. 

Let’s minimize our time in the cold.  “How about the family restaurant near our apartment?”    


Akira gapes at me a moment.  “Sounds good.”

“ _ Tt _ .”  I’m not that bad am I?

We walk the rest of the way quietly.  I’m not really one for idle chatter, and Akira even less so.  I’d rather just enjoy the experience. An experience which I like better once Morgana turns to go home.   


The restaurant is a pretty simple affair.  Comfort food in a comfy atmosphere. We’ve only really come here before because it’s a place Akira can study outside the apartment.  They’ve got a drink bar and you can keep your tab running for a while. 

A server comes up right when we get inside and Akira signals that we’ll be two.  The young man offers a look of solidarity his way and picks up the menus. Then, he sees the cake box.   


“Two?” he asks hesitantly.

That’s never happened before, but looking around I’ve got a good guess why.  There’s a lot of young couples here tonight, mixed in with a few families with older children.  While not packed, we’re definitely in a sea of heterosexual romance.

“Yeah,” Akira confirms.   


The server eyes the two of us a moment, but eventually turns and leads us to an empty table.  It’s a small booth shoved into a corner and definitely on the emptier side of the restaurant. This particular table can’t be seen from the door.   


I set the cake box down and sit.  Akira sits across from me, and the server puts our menus down without a word.   


He exits with alacrity.   


“Working tonight must be stressful,” Akira mutters, looking at the set meals.   


He always looks at the sets only to order a la carte at the end.   


“That’s not what bothered him,” I reply somewhat roughly.  Now that we’re seated, I let my irritation show. 

“He seemed awfully young to care we’re a couple.”  Akira turns the menu over. “You’re overreacting.”

“You know he asked to confirm our numbers hoping girls were meeting us, right?”

Akira just shrugs.  “Maybe he just realized how attractive you are,” he teases.

“Doesn’t mean I want anything to do with girls.”

Akira puts down his menu.  “You okay?”

Where’d that come from?

“You’re tense.”

Not wrong I guess.  I carefully slipped my letter in between the folds of the cake box, but the prospect of actually handing it to him is nerve wracking.  The kind of nervousness I’ve only ever really experienced when dealing with Shido. That feeling that if I fuck up, it’s all over. 

I hear the ding when Akira presses the call button.  Well, at least he’s learned not wait on me before ordering.

A different server comes over.  I know it’s not odd to get different servers, it’s just a matter of who’s available, but I can’t help but wonder if the one who seated us is now in avoidance mode.   


“Two drink sets, a doria with egg, and two pizzas.  One mushroom, one prosciutto.” 

That’s not like him.  I stare at Akira, hard.  That’s not like him at all.  He just stands up to grab a melon soda.   


I can’t believe he drinks anything that green.   


I get up to grab some iced tea and by the time I sit back down, he’s got the cake box on the table.  He looks like a little kid trying to guess at the present. 

“Boss showed me how to make his red velvet cake.”

“Yum!”  Akira looks up at me, beaming.  “Guess we don’t need to worry about dessert then.”

I nod carefully.  I tried one of the other ones I prepped and it tasted fine.  No reason to assume this one won’t. 

“Can I open it?”

My heart makes a break for it, and I cough at the sudden pressure in my chest as it attempts to escape up my throat.   


It’s not just the letter either.  I specifically decorated this cake in as much lovey dovey tacky as I could stand.  Not much by romantic holiday standards maybe, but now that the moment is right in front of me, the idea of him seeing my love confession on cake is making my face redder than the cake.   


Or the red frosting I used to write out his name and that I loved him.

Oh, for the love of…

I facepalm.

I don’t know why, but Akira brings out the mushy, sweet side of me that I don’t remember ever existing.  Even as a little kid. When someone was nice to me…

Well, they always just wanted something.   


I am not used to signs of affection.  Even the most conservative, grumpy, old Japanese man would probably tell me I wasn’t open enough with my feelings.  That I could stand to express my affection more. 

There’s a pressure on my forehead not from my hand.

“ _ Hizzz. _ ”

I slide my hand down so I can see.  Just in time to see Akira remove his finger and stop making noise.   


“I could fry an egg on your face,” he says thoughtfully.

I arch a brow at him.  Seriously? Who am I dating?  A grade schooler?

Nah, his smile’s way too angelic to be a grade schooler’s.   


For a moment I just stare at him, admiring the teasing grin.  The way he grins, like it’s all a joke and all serious all at once, it’s beautiful.  Really, really beautiful.

I wish I could be that open.  To smile just because you want to smile.  To let it carry every emotion you’re feeling and every thought crossing your mind.

I can’t imagine what such a smile would even look like on my face.

The two pizzas arrive, blocking my view for just a moment.   


He lifts a slice of prosciutto pizza.

“Cheers.”

I lift a slice of the mushroom one.  Okay, when they’re in front of me, I like this one better.   


“Cheers.”

He taps the tip of his pizza against mine before taking a big bite.  Akira’s a surprisingly voracious eater. 

I better get him into a solid exercise habit before his metabolism drops.  Or mine for that matter, but I don’t tend to eat a lot. Not comparably anyway.   


Oh well, it’s a trait that served me well early early on.  Not much food when I started out.

Guess, worrying about that letter has me in the mood for recollections.  None of them are as pleasant as right now though. 

I try to focus on the now, and take a small bite of my own pizza.  “Better leave room for that dessert.”

Akira grabs a second slice of pizza.  “Freshly baked cake from my boyfriend?  Nothing could fill me too much to eat that.”   


His confidence in my abilities never ceases to amaze.   


Our doria arrives, and we fully dig in.  All conversation over.

It used to worry him that I don’t talk when eating, but I think he’s gotten used to it.

I just want to make sure I get my fill, however little that may be, before the food gets taken away.   


Since he eats more though, I’m done well before him.   


“Get enough to eat?” Akira asks, spoonful of doria hovering just outside his mouth.   


“I’m plenty satiated,” I reply.   


It’s an old habit of mine to never eat to full, and now the idea of a stuffed stomach just sounds terrible.   


Akira shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but I don’t miss the way his smile droops slightly.  He doesn’t like that answer. I’m not sure why, but he never does. 

I remember the Boss’s advice to open up communication.

“Would happily satiated sound better?”

“ _ Kk! _ ”  Akira just about chokes on his food.

“You prefer emotional context to my statements, do you not?”

Okay, now he’s staring at me.  Bringing me back from the metaverse years later wasn’t a problem.  Me attempting to discuss emotions and our relationship though, that freaks him out.   


I suppose that says a lot, actually.  About both of us.

He chugs the rest of his melon soda.   


“Give me long enough to get more soda.”

I hand him my own glass.  He takes it without complaint and wanders over to the drink machines.   


Huh.  Must have opened a bigger can of worms than I thought.   


Sure enough, Akira sits back down looking ready to grill me. 

“Goro, is everything okay?”

I nod, taking a sip of my tea to avoid answering him verbally.   


It’s not you.  It’s me. 

Akira sighs.  “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

I nod again.   


He leans forward.  “Is that making you nervous?”

It’s not really the day, it’s how I’ve chosen to celebrate it.  I could have taken an easier way out, but I don’t want to run from him.

He’s probably the best thing to ever happen to me.   


I finally put down my drink, but I can’t look at him.  Instead, I just stare down at the half-empty glass of iced tea.   


He’s going to hate me once he reads that letter.  I know he can forgive a lot, but...I mean I…

“I’m broken.”  My hands tighten around the glass.  “Someone else’s trash. Why would you want that?”

Akira cautiously places a hand on my forearm.   


“You’re my treasure.”

I stare at his hand.  A warm patch. It’s not unwelcome.   


“There’s a letter,” I whisper.  Slowly, I look into his eyes. I don’t think I could do it if he weren’t wearing his glasses.  They’re like a barrier, protecting me from the intensity of his gaze. “Promise you’ll read it?”

He squeezes his hand.   


“Anything you need to tell me, no matter how you tell it,” he promises.   


I don’t know I’ve ever heard someone so sincere in my entire life.   


“Akira?”

He just looks at me, waiting patiently for me to speak.

“I do love you.”

I feel like I stammered, but whether I did or not, he doesn’t seem to care.  Thank goodness. 

He does smile at me though, and this one is all kindness and sakura petals.  Beautiful in its ephemeralness. 

“I love you too.”

“And you still will?”

What a stupid question to ask.  It’s not like he even knows what I wrote.   


Yet, there’s a slight sparkle of amusement to his eyes.  “I can’t imagine anything you could say or do which would make me stop.”

I don’t know why, but that thought kind of makes me smile too.  I mean, given everything he knows I’ve already done, the fact he loves me is kind of a miracle.  I guess I’m just worried that this will be the last straw. That it will finally force him to see me in my more negative light.   


I mean, he watched me shoot a cognition of him in the head, and he still loves me.   


The thing is, that doesn’t make me a hand-me-down.  What’s in this letter? It does. 

I shift out of his soft grip and officially slide him the cake box.  He immediately pulls out the envelope.

“It’s thick.”

I don’t want to watch him read this.

“Could you read it in private?”

He smiles at me, and slides the letter into his inner coat pocket.  He then opens up the cake box. 

His eyes widen.

Shit.  He hates it.

“I’m sorry.  I know it’s tacky…”

“Goro, no, I…” he grins, “it’s adorable.”

Fuck.   


“You decorated this, right?”

I groan.   


“You did a good job.  I mean, I’ve used the tools Boss has, and I can’t make anything this neat.  Plus, it’s got to suck to use left handed.”

He’s not wrong there, but while I can write with my right hand, it still looked better with my left, awkward as it was to use.   


I got so much icing on my apron figuring it out too.   


He pulls out his phone to snap a picture.

“Don’t send it to the group,” I exclaim.   


He laughs.  “But I want to show off that I have such an awesome boyfriend,” he replies, much more loudly than I would have liked.   


Yeah well,  “they don’t need to see it!”

I attempt to yank the phone from him  He continues to laugh, raising his arm up high.   


“Fine, fine.  I am setting it as my lock screen though.”

I should have killed him when I had the chance.  Still, I lean back again, glaring at him. 

“There.”  Akira holds out his phone proudly, showing off my derpy icing message.  “Now I’ll smile every time I check my phone.”

He’d better.  Because if my love confession can make him smile again and again, then maybe all the mushy stuff was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> And Akechi's side of the story completes. Look forward to Akira's response on White Day (March 14th). Also, shout out to my friend Babelguppy for lots of help with editing. The best editors are the ones who turn you into a better writer.


End file.
